Random Thoughts VIII
by Ophium
Summary: A series of short stories, from the POV of various characters on the course of several moments of different episodes. The eighth is from Bellick's POV, during episode 1.17, And then there were 7. Presence of bad language and sexual references. Be warned.


Random thoughts: Bellick

The Structure of Power

_(Set during And then there were 7)_

Mom always said that I'm a good boy and that good things happen to good boys. I think the old lady is not all there in her head anymore.

Because as far as good things coming my way, I have a long list overdue.

I wasn't the smartest kid in school, hell! I wasn't even on the top twenty and there were only twenty-four of us in that class. Even so, I struggled through the pain of going to school everyday until I was in my last year of high school. Dropped out in the first week of that year because I simply had had enough. Mama wasn't pleased.

But I wasn't worried. It wasn't like I was dropping out of school to become some cock-sucking bum. No, sir, I had a plan for the rest of my life.

I was going to serve my country and be a hero.

Tried to join the army, but when the tests came back, they said I couldn't join the marines on account of whatever-the-fuck-was-it psychological profile incompatibility. Bull shit.

I tried to join the Chicago PD next, but the dumb asses at the admission office made a point of only accepting candidates who had finished high school… as if that matter to any.

How many years in school do you need to chase down a tug and bring him down?

But I wasn't a quitter, no sir, never was. I figured that if the US wouldn't let me fight for my country, and if the cops wouldn't let me catch the scumbags of society, I could do the next best thing.

I tried three state penitentiaries before going to Fox River. Pope was the only one that said yes.

I made my way up on wrist strength alone, putting up with the shifts no one else wanted, keeping down the cons that no one else seemed to control.

It took some hard work, but I managed to secure myself a sweet deal at Fox River, my own private kingdom. Well, to be honest, Pope is the 'king', but I am the xerif, the one really in charge. He knows it, I know it and the cons most certainly know it.

I was on top for once in my life, in control of something, with enough power to decide what happened to others, even if the others in question were the very bottom of the food chain. I didn't mind, because their asses belonged to me.

When it came to women, my life wasn't much easier.

I don't have the sissy looks that make women turn their heads around, but I've worked on a strong presence to make them notice me.

And they do notice me, but never the ones that I want to. It's always the four eyed, overweighed lump at the back of the bar; or the toothless, shit-for-breath sex maniac at the cashier's line; or even the mother of four, that just wants a dick to pay her bills.

I'm not an average guy. I wanna find myself a more than average woman. I deserve it.

I want the kind of woman that looks good on your arm, that makes other men turn their heads in envy and think 'lucky son of bitch'.

Met a hooker once that made me think that she was the one. The bitch was tall, with legs that seemed to never end, dark curly hair that felt like cotton on your hands and a mouth that did wonders to your soul.

She made me feel good about myself, and I started to believe that maybe, just maybe, one of those good things that mom was always preaching about had finally happen.

Turns out, for fifty bucks a fuck, she made any guy feel like that, so I broke her face and moved on.

A lot of hookers and more than one night arriving home pissed plastered with beer got me nothing but a bad liver and a trip to the AA meetings. It was either that or mom kicking me out.

Met Sara there. Doc Ice-cubes.

I remember thinking at the time that if she looked as good as that when she was feeling like shit, I might as well take advantage of the situation and land myself the kind of woman that I had always dreamed about. A fiery red-headed with a body to die for.

Knowing that she had been a doctor before turning in to a junky should've been my first clue. People with collage degrees always think they're better than the rest of us, as if some lousy piece of paper is all they need to prove to the rest of the world that they're smart.

But guess what, if she was in the same AA meeting as I was, she couldn't be all that smart, now could she?

She treated me like I was dumb, like she was better than me. She still does it now, with her superior looks, and her superior education, like she wasn't a lousy addicted just like me. Pour little miss rich, dumped from her old job and ignored by her senator father.

She wouldn't be working at all if I hadn't gotten her this gig.

They always think they're worth more than you just because they have the money, and they have the diploma and they have the looks. I despise them.

Because in the end, they too crap their pants when they screw up, and it smells just as bad as with the rest of us.

First glimpse I got of Scofield I just knew that he was gonna give me trouble. He had that same air about him, you know?

I met a lot of 'Scofields' in my life, people who made me feel inferior just by looking at me.

When I was really young, I used to run away from them, just to stop feeling bad about myself. As I grew older, I realized that the problem wasn't in me; it was in the way they looked at me. So I started to beat the look out of them. Earned me a reputation of bully in school, but made me feel a whole of a lot better.

I decided that I was going to beat that look out of this Scofield as well, and I knew that it was going to be fun. First time jailer, attractive looks, big box filled with horny cons… you do the math.

I flunked math, so I had a good excuse to get that one wrong. Have no idea what possessed Abruzzi to start protecting that sonofbitch, but what ever was his reason, he robbed me of the pleasure of watching Scofield being turned in to somebody's fuck-toy. So I had resort to bulling again. It was just like ridding a bike.

The more I started to pay attention to that scumbag, the more I discovered things about him that pissed me off.

I started to realize that Pope had a soft spot for the collage boy, just because he was helping him built that ridiculous toothpick house; I realized that good ol' Doc Ice wasn't as icy around pretty boy as she was with the rest of us, all smiley and nice when he talked to her, even protecting him when she had no business doing it; and I realized that even in jail, Scofield had managed to get himself a piece of prime time ass, claiming to be his wife.

I knew that the only way for a guy like me to get any with a woman who looked like that was with my left hand holding a picture of her and my right hand holding my dick. So how come a piece of college shit like Scofield gets himself pussy like that?

Is it the bad boy's attitude? The tattoos? What?!

How can a lowlife, dirty scumbag, bottom of the food chain like him land in bed with a woman like that Euro that came to visit him, and still get bed eyes from Doc Ice? It's disgusting.

Revolting.

I did the only thing that a law obeying fella like me could do in face of such injustice. I got even.

Ordered a full body cavity search after his 'conjugal'.

And it felt all so sweet to watch Scofield's ass, getting probed around, looking for 'contraband'.

I would've done it my self, making sure to turn the procedure extra painful and even more humiliating for lover boy, but that would've meant losing the opportunity to see the look of embarrassment and pain on his face… not to mention the twenty bucks that sissy guard paid me so that I'll call him to do it.

I watch Scofield's face, searching for the humiliation to register there, but I fail to see it. Maybe he is a faggot like I've always suspected and having a man shove a finger inside his end hole isn't all that unfamiliar to him after all.

I wonder if my little plan to get to him is proving pointless and I'm pissed to think that maybe he'll end up enjoying this after all.

I watch him closely as he closes his eyes and I smile to myself. Faggot or no faggot, he ain't enjoying this. But I am.

I don't like people coming in here and messing with my system. I worked hard to get things to the point where they are now and no collage boy is gonna come in here and mess that up.

In here I am the ruler. In here, I am the smarter. In here I am Julius fucking Caesar and I get to decide who lives and who dies.

In here, I can look forward for the next day to come and the next prisoner to humiliate. All that they have to look forward is for time to pass until they can call themselves citizens again. Until then they are cons, on my territory, obeying me or paying the consequences.

Maybe mom was right after all. Good things come to those who've earned them. And Fox River is a good thing for me.

The end


End file.
